


the storm.

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timothée Chalamet - Fandom, tchalamet, tim chalamet, timmy x reader - Fandom, timothee chalamet x reader - Fandom, timothee chalamet/original female character - Fandom, timothee x reader - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: Timothée Chalamet is one of your best friends in the world... until you realize that he was never just that.





	the storm.

**Author's Note:**

> for lexie xx find me on tumblr under same user. x

“You’re an Academy Award winning actor, Chalamet. You really can’t afford a bigger apartment?” 

He shrugged and spun the glass of whiskey in small circles with slender fingers. His face was red from the liquor, and his eyes twinkled. 

“Of course I can. I don’t want one.” 

“So how does this situation work then?”

He arched an eyebrow, and your breath caught in your throat. The fabric of the grey leggings around your thighs suddenly felt hot and suffocating.

“What do you mean?” He lifted the glass and easily tipped back the remaining contents. You clumsily picked up the whiskey and poured more into both of your glasses. He was chewing on his lower lip, and he looked comfortably tipsy. 

“Where do I sleep?” You had shared a bed with him before, so it wasn’t a concept that was new and mysterious. But lately, things felt heavier. Being physically near him felt warmer and richer, and he had been gazing at you as if questioning it himself. Being close friends to Tim was something that was always easier than breathing, but at some point it began to turn into lingering looks, his eyes on your legs and lips, an excess of unnecessary physical contact, and intrusive images in your mind of the two of you rocking together in your bedroom as his hands scoured your body. You blinked hard a few times and brought yourself back. He was still biting his lip.

“You can sleep in my bed with me. Where else would you sleep?” He stood and made an attempt to be casual while finishing off his drink again, but his hand was shaking. Your eyes flickered briefly to a noticeable bulge under his jeans that hadn’t been there before. The walls suddenly seemed to disappear. 

“Yeah, of course, sounds good.” You did a quick shot before taking a bedtime glass into his room and setting it on a nightstand. The large window behind his bed was fogged and bright with the heavy snowflakes pummeling New York City. Almost 2 feet before 11 PM. Your odds of making it home were nonexistent. 

His bedroom felt different. You were almost self conscious, but you slid your shoes off and pulled your sweater over your head. Sliding under his blankets in your leggings and a purple cami, you tried to keep your focus on the comforts of the bed and not the fact that it was only a twin. Small sounds drifted in from the kitchen as he locked up and turned off the lights. Your head felt light, and the smell of him around you was like a drug. You leaned back against the headboard and sipped your whiskey slowly, closing your eyes and counting to calm yourself. The door clicked shut and your eyes opened quickly, taking him in. 

He watched you for a moment, seeming to want to remember the sight. He, too, brought a glass of liquor in with him. His eyes rested on your breasts for a lingering few seconds before he took a deep breath and walked around to climb into the other side of the bed. His presence next to you on the mattress made your chest feel tight. The desire to touch him was so intense that you folded your arms and put your hands under your armpits, staring stubbornly at the TV on a table near the closet as he flicked through Netflix. Settling on a relaxing ocean documentary, something he knew would calm you, he set the remote aside and made himself comfortable. He was sitting so close that his arm was against yours, and he cleared his throat loudly each time he adjusted position. 

Several minutes went by, and you absentmindedly finished your drink. It made your body hot, and you kicked the blankets down off your legs. His eyes traveled up and down your legs several times, and you knew him well enough to know that he was calculating something in his head. His eyes were slightly squinted as he considered for a moment before resigning himself and making eye contact with you. 

“I know you get hot when you drink, you can take your pants off if you’re cooler that way.” He spoke firmly, as if taking a dare with himself to just say the words. Each one felt like it was shocked into your nerves, and he laughed when a soft sound escaped your lips in response. 

What was he trying to say? Is this him waving a flag and telling you that he’s comfortable with you in underwear because he doesn’t have feelings for you? Is he trying to make a move? Is he just drunk and being courteous?

“Stop thinking so hard, girly.” Girly. A nickname you never found tiresome. 

The wind outside howled, and you trusted your gut. You slowly peeled your leggings off and left them on the floor, thanking angels that you had shaved your legs that morning. The relief was refreshing, and you stretched your legs out to enjoy the cool air on your skin. Your toenails, a bright sky blue, smiled back at both of you. Nothing was missed, though. His eyes roamed freely, and you felt like you were both aware of it. The fingers wrapped around the glass in his hand were tense and turning white. He was rapidly drumming his fingers on his jeans, his eyes were dark, and you knew what was coming. The anticipation was like a high, though. You wanted him to make the first move. 

Testing his ability to read your body language, you turned your body to face him, sitting on your hip and resting your head in your hand with your elbow on the headboard. You hooked up a knee so your legs were apart, and the other draped down the bed freely. The purple cami was low, and you fixed your eyes on the tv as your chest rose and fell deeply. Easier than you could have ever imagined.

He couldn’t stop moving, and you smiled in amusement. His fingers drummed harder, and he adjusted his body every couple of minutes. The black lace panties around your hips seemed to beckon him closer with one finger, because he suddenly found an excuse to touch you. A large bruise remained on your thigh from a clumsy incident in your kitchen that morning, and he lightly placed his hand over the colored skin. His thumb circled it slowly, and you inhaled the touch. 

“What happened?” His voice was low and primal, and a sharp tingle erupted between your thighs and scampered down both legs.

“I ran into the table, I wasn’t paying attention.” Your voice shook, and you knew he knew.

“Does it hurt?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you could see his pupils blown as his eyes devoured your thigh.

You shifted your legs to open them further, and his gaze darted to your face. “Yes.”

“You need to be careful, girly.” He finished his whiskey and made a casual movement to move down near your thigh. Your body was stiff and frozen as he seemed to examine the discoloration for a moment, the pad of his thumb still caressing your skin. Wildfires were erupting in your lower stomach, and when he finally lowered his lips to kiss the spot tenderly, they became a storm that burned so, so sweetly. 

He remained for a beat before lifting his head and placing another kiss a few inches futher up your leg. By now your chest was almost heaving in anticipation, and it was all but impossible to hold back the sounds building in your throat. His lips were warm, gentle, and cautious as they explored your thigh, his hand lightly gripping the inside of your knee. He knew he was pushing boundaries that you had never even discussed before, and he was giving you the chance to tell him no. Right after hell froze over.

You let him move at his own pace, and he seemed to have a need to be familiar with as much of you as possible. His mouth crossed to your other leg and kissed it with more confidence, his hands gliding hungrily up and down both of your legs. You wanted him to know that this was what you wanted, that you were as into it as he was, so you arched your hips toward him and let your head drop back. A delicate, sweet sigh fell from your mouth, and you felt his left hand tighten significantly on your calf. Car horns blared from the street, green and red lights flickered on his walls, and the room was echoing with the sound of your heavy breathing harmonizing with his. 

His mouth continued to paint art on your upper legs before it became brave and started to venture along the lace strap of your panties along your tummy. His hair was curled in his face, and you suddenly felt immensely grateful at how much it had grown back in. 

A gentle exhale of breath tickled your belly as his hands slid up your thighs. Tentative fingers curled around the straps on your hips and suddenly Timmy was looking up at you. He looked wrecked and like he was about to devour you whole. 

“I need you to tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered between breaths, lowering himself between your open legs. He pressed a light kiss to your wet heat over the fabric of your panties, his green eyes searching your face for answers as they had so many times before. 

“Fuck no,” you blurted loudly, making him jump in surprise before chuckling and shaking his head. 

“Good girl, because I’ve been thinking about what you taste like for a long fucking time.” Timothée wasted no time, and the black underwear vanished. He settled himself between your legs again with his arms hooked around your hips to hold you in place. You could almost feel yourself getting wetter as his eyes dropped and took in your vagina, his mouth parting in desire and fascination. He lazily slid his pointer finger down from the top of your slit to your entrance, pressing softly against your clit before looking back up at you. 

“Guide me, baby girl?” He was purring the words.

The touch of his finger made you gasp, and an electric shock of pleasure traveled down your back. Unable to talk, you nodded eagerly and quickly, your hand unconsciously finding his hair. Your fingers gripped his curls gently as he pushed himself forward sharply to wrap his mouth around your clit, sucking on it hard between his lips. You collapsed instantly onto the mattress and arched your back to the ceiling, the first true moan leaving your throat. He made a sound of appreciation and allowed his tongue to playfully lap along your entrance, his fingertips digging into your skin as he tugged you closer. 

“Fuck, Tim, that’s so good... move your tongue slower and higher... YES, fuck right there!” Your hips began to gyrate against his lips as the tip of his tongue found a sweet spot and attacked it. “That feels so good, oh God...”

He lifted his head for a brief moment to rub your clit roughly with his fingers before sliding his middle finger easily inside of you. The world ceased to exist, and your muscles clenched around his finger as he began to fuck you with it relentlessly. Another finger entered, stretching you a bit more as he sucked on your clit again. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them and watching your face to see what you responded to and what you didn’t. 

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, and the buildup was so sweet and intense that you were practically screaming by the time he made you come. Your body writhed beneath his hands, and he drank it in with lust in his eyes. 

The moment passed and your body slumped limply back as he removed his fingers from you, placing one more gentle kiss to your inner thigh before pushing himself up. 

There was a lull in time as your breathing slowed, and he took the time to crawl over you, pushing your cami up your stomach and placing kisses along the way. His arm wound underneath your body to lift you closer, and his lips found your ribs. You allowed him to explore a bit more before getting impatient.

“Tim.”

He lifted his head immediately, his eyes still betraying the alcohol in his blood. Suddenly unsure what to say, you stared at one another for a breath before your hands found his face to pull him up closer. A sharp bolt struck from nowhere as you realized you hadn’t kissed him before, but then you were kissing him. How could you ever have not known what it would be like? He kissed you back deeply and openly, his hands ridding your body of the cami and bra remaining. Then he was touching you everywhere, making you dizzy as his hands massaged your hips, then feeling along the length of your stomach. One traveled to your left breast and gripped it securely, his fingers gently massaging the nipple. The sounds escaping into his mouth were uncontrollable now, and they grew more urgent as his shirt and pants hit the floor and your bare body met his for the first time. 

You took turns on top, simply rolling over and under one another as your hands got to know him and his got to know you. He seemed to take a particular liking to your ass, his hands continuously finding their way back to grip it harshly to push you closer. The tension building was almost painful, and eventually he flipped securely on top of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed you for another few seconds, and then his boxers were gone. 

Lifting his head reluctantly, he pressed kisses down your jawline and allowed his hands to travel along your breasts, hips, back, and thighs. 

“Have you been taking your birth control regularly?” His breath was hot on your neck.

“Yes... yes, Tim...”

He hummed in approval and lifted his head to look down at you, his eyes green and burning. 

“Can I...please, please fuck you...” he asked between kisses to your lips, his hand up in your hair. “Can I please have you?” 

Didn’t he already? Did he not know? Yes. Yes. You said it into his mouth over and over again, making him smile into the kiss. You felt him push your legs apart further, so you lifted your knees up to give him better access. 

The moment lasted forever, and suddenly you were aware of everything. The outside sounds, the snow hitting the window, the flashing lights, the bed beneath you. He kissed your bottom lip gently and lined himself up, his hands still shaking. You urgently pulled his chin up and kissed him lightly, feeling him press down closer. His mouth lingered above yours for half a second before his hips rolled forward and he buried himself inside of you. 

It had been a while since you had been with anyone, and the burn of him stretching you made you hiss and dig your nails into his back. It was the most amazing sensation you had ever known.

“Are you... okay...?” He looked like he could barely contain himself, like something would overflow soon and drown you both. 

“Yes.”

He didn’t wait to be asked, and the post of the headboard bounced against the wall in rhythm as he began to thrust in and out, each movement drawing moans and gasps from the both of you. He held your waist securely and buried his face in your neck, kissing it so eagerly it was almost sloppy as his movements quickened. Your body arched into him, and with the right angle he began to hit you deeper.

“Fucking hell, you feel so good...” he could barely speak, and the sound of him pushed you closer and closer to the brink. He gently bit into your neck and moaned your name, continuously praising your body in a mixture of languages. He was everywhere, he was all that existed. 

“You’re going to make me fucking come, baby girl, I’m so close...” he growled suddenly against your pulse, and his mouth captured yours as his hips snapped faster and faster. Blissfully high, you began to thrust your waist up to meet his movements. His skin slapped yours, stinging beautifully. 

His orgasm was sudden and intense, and he cried out into your mouth as it rolled through him and he spilled himself inside you. He continued to rock his hips in lazy movements through it, holding onto you so tightly that you could barely breathe. When you were both still, the room glowed with a different light. He pressed a firm kiss to your neck and squeezed you gently.

“Stay the weekend with me.” His voice cut through the night, making your heart skip. He sounded like he was almost pleading, and his fingers began to massage your hip.

“Yes,” was all you said.


End file.
